


4am

by whatisrydenidontknowher



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatisrydenidontknowher/pseuds/whatisrydenidontknowher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete can't sleep.</p><p>Before van days. Short drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4am

It's around four in the morning. Pete pulls his car onto the side of the road outside Patrick's house. Thursday. School night. The seventeen year old might throw a fist at him, but too tired to leave a bruise. He wouldn't care either way.  
  
Tugging the phone out of his pocket, he hits his speed dial, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. The dial tone stops as static hisses in his ear.  
  
"Wha's matt'r.." is what greets him and Pete feels his limbs go numb. "Pete?"  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
"...You outside again?"  
  
"Across the street."  
  
"Backdoor, I'll be there in a sec."  
  
Patrick hangs up. Pete turns his ignition off, shoving his keys in his pocket and hurrying to the back of the house. There's barely a point in sneaking. Pete can see Patrick's driveway is empty besides his shitty car used mostly for school transportation. Scuffling onto the back steps, Pete shivers, and Patrick has the door open not a second too late.  
  
They stare at each other. Patrick tilts his head. Pete shakes his. The blonde tugs him inside without a word.  
  
There's only so many strikes Pete's allowing himself. There's other options of course. Joe would be the easy option since no one in his family cared if Pete showed up in the middle of the night. He could be drunk and out if his mind and they'd probably still make him a bed. Joe would make breakfast and urge him to wake up.  
  
As perfect as that scenario seemed, it lacked Patrick. Pete wasn't sure why that was so important now. A year or so of shitty garage shows and he was head over heels in some way. Patrick's parents were skeptical. Patrick got annoyed easy. He would kick Pete's ass. He loved him. He loved all of it. But he shouldn't keep doing this. Yet, he still did. He still ruined the singer's sleeping schedule. He still showed up when he couldn't sleep. He still crawled into his bed and breathed into his neck.  
  
"You want the side away from my alarm this time?" Patrick asks, sliding off his slippers and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Pete nods slow and stands still, observing. "Wise choice."  
  
Patrick climbs into bed, sitting up and waving Pete over. Pete kicks his sneakers off and climbs in, laying flat. Stiff. Patrick frowns at him.  
  
"Nightmares?"  
  
Pete nods. Patrick lays down and tugs Pete close. He buries his nose into the younger boy's neck, slipping an arm around him and trying to relax. Trying to clear his head. He can almost gather some form of coherent thought, but he figures he can cut himself a little slack. It's four in the morning.  
  
Patrick kisses Pete's hair softly, running his fingers along Pete's back. His nerves unwind. Patrick's strawberry shampoo makes him dizzy.  
  
Inhale. Exhale. Patrick  
  
A short list of things to focus on makes it easier to close his eyes. Patrick's arm goes heavy on his side. Pete can tell he's asleep. He wishes he'd stay awake. He practically aches for his soft singing, his voice not fully functional. But he knows he can't expect that.  
  
It's four in the morning.


End file.
